


Where The Wild Souls Are

by rebornfromash, thatfoxilady



Category: Soul Eater
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 11:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4017982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebornfromash/pseuds/rebornfromash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatfoxilady/pseuds/thatfoxilady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“See the truth is, children don't grow up. Their bodies get bigger, their hearts get torn--and it takes a wild imagination, a big adventure and a whole lot of Rumpus to fix the broken pieces.”</p><p>(Where The Wild Things Are AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Childhood Lost

**Author's Note:**

> A COLOSSAL thank you to the lovely Fab, Proma, Amanda and future helpers for the very awesome Beta help, as well as my lovely wife, Rebornfromash for joining me in the creation of this Soul Eater AU. Ever since I was a little kid, Where the Wild Things Are has always my favorite book. I was always one for crazy imaginative adventures. Now that I'm older, I know the true meaning of the story. Ash and I would like to show you all what it means to be a Wild Thing using our favorite crew. Hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Without further ado, "Let the wild rumpus start!"

                   

Chapter 1: A Childhood Lost

It’s a mystery how children find homes in places they never expected, or even knew existed. More of a wonder how most are able to withstand having these places taken from them at a young age. Adults disdainfully refer to it as “Make Believe” and “Imagination.” They try their best to make it sound pointless and silly, when it was once something they themselves held dear to their hearts. Who could despise creativity? Imagination sought happy things, candy mountains, fun-filled adventures around the house and summer days on the beach. In the time the brain allows children to daydream, they are royalty, proud owners of such worlds. Unfortunately, their reign cannot last forever, and maybe this is the reason most grown-ups turn bitter. No child ever suspects reality to turn into seafoam, to cover their forgotten sandcastle--bring it down with a dull crash. No king or queen is ever prepared for the day of their dethroning.

Maka Albarn found a way to rebuild the dreams that her previous world crushed.

It was not without loss, though, nothing of worth ever is.

When she was a wee thing, her mother and father both read to her constantly. The material they read could never be agreed upon, so often times she would hear dear mother shouting at her father for filling Maka’s head with nonsense. From the age of five, she learned a kind of guilt for the fanciful things she once adored, and learned to speak differently around her mother. She forced herself to quit her daydreaming and focus on the reality of life, secretly wondering why her mother thought to take away her only solace. Maka’s reality was less than desirable; the quarreling of her parents made her childhood short-lived and tinged with bitterness. It was the menacing thing that hung constantly above her head, threatening to spill. And spill it did, wearing down the walls and flooding the rooms of the Albarn residence with indescribable loneliness.

The remains built an entirely new household.

She never forgot the world she created though.

On her eleventh birthday, her mother gifted her with a journal and a kiss on her forehead. She told Maka, “I have to go away for a while to figure some things out. Write some stories for me for when I see you again, baby.”

Maka was too dumbfounded to even cry after her mother left. She wondered yet again why her mother snuffed out her creativity so long ago if she wished for Maka to call upon it now. What could she possibly say? For a year, she stared blankly at that godforsaken journal, waiting for mama to come back and scold her for not writing anything, waiting for the familiar smell of her lavender shampoo and soft, worn sweaters.

 

On her twelfth birthday, she got a call from her mother. “Mama can’t come home yet sweetie, I still have some things for take care of.” Maka hung up before her mother could tell her she loved her. That night, when her father sent her off to bed after cake and vanilla milk, and after she refused his offer to read to her, she climbed out her window and ran to the backwoods, journal and pen in hand. The full moon was high and offered her all the light she needed. She climbed her favourite tree, and once she settled in, she began scribbling furiously.

She did not write of reality, like her mama might have wanted.

She wrote of the world she created as a child; she wrote for herself.

It was like that phone call with her mother burst the carefully constructed dam that had kept the roaring waters of her vivid imagination at bay. The words poured forth, page after page of incredible adventures on her island of sunshine and snow angels.

Days passed, one after the other into weeks, weeks into months, months into years, and Maka came back to her tree with more and more stories brewing and aching to be written.

Oddly, every time she began writing, she’d be pulled from her reverie by a rustling in the bushes, followed by a low, rumbling kind of growl. She might have been scared, except the noise always sounded more antsy than anything, almost human, but not quite. It reminded Maka of the many times her mother grumbled, fed up with her childish hyperactivity. “Be still.” She’d never forget the tone. Echoes of that impatient grumble lingered with this strange noise in the night. She’d wait a while, ears keen and eyes searching, but find nothing of any danger--probably just another possum.

                                                                                   

Night had fallen, covering the earth in depths of shadow. All slept soundly in the warmth of their lairs, snug safely and warmly beneath their respective furs. However, with the slumber to overcome those harboring a beating heart, there awakened a being which could only be feared while in the midst of rest, treading alone down paths of dead leaves and distorted trunks carrying the sickly stench of wood rot. At so late an hour, he began to stride through the forest, no purpose other than distance to calm himself. He didn’t expect to encounter anything but the expanse of trees and faint echoes of animals, but the scent of something familiar heightened with each step he took towards the barrier that divided the woods from the outside world.

There are nights when Luna de Sangre sleeps, cloaked in the dark of the indigo sky. On those nights, the barrier weakens, and foreign scents slip through openings in the air currents, into their sacred home. He awoke from sleep many times to shake off bad vibes that crawled their way under his skin. Some nights, he smelled unclean things and others he would catch the scent of a sole creature who made routine visits to the other side of the sea, and he would try to picture the life of this intriguing soul. A nameless wanderer, he assumed, who needed something much better than what the unforgiving outside world offered. He remembered that feeling, searching for some place to call home.

A thunderstorm troubled the waters in the distance.

                                                                                  

                               

“You’re absolutely pathetic!”

The words left her somewhere between wanting to scream and wanting to throw up. Never in her child days had she imagined raising her voice like that--at him of all people. It’d been years-- loads of hard work managing his horrible drinking habits and late night escapades; nothing but that since the divorce. Day and night Maka pondered how--why her mother left her to deal with the mess that was her father, alone. She found herself growing up much quicker than most kids she attended school with, didn’t have much of a choice. Her father had turned into a depressed alcoholic who barely made it to work most days. Maka filled the cupboards and the fridge. She mopped the floors and paid the bills on days he was late with the checks. It was sad-- for he used to be much better than that. She did everything she imagined her mother did for them.

“Makaaa, my darling angel~ I can explain--”

“I don’t wanna hear it!”

Not anymore.

 About a month ago, things started looking up. She was getting top grades in her classes at school and her Father seemed to care about it, enough to try and cut his booze intake and late night escapades. Maka contemplated being a bit nicer. She’d come home from staying over at Tsugumi’s, stopped by the grocers to buy all the ingredients needed to make his favorite dinner. The number of bottles littering the living room floor jerked her back into the harsh reality of her father’s condition. And the icing on the cake, was the sight of her father with some chatty and overly-touchy brunette. She supposed some things would never change.

“Ma’am,” she began, trying to calm down by taking deep breaths, but it did nothing for her. “You’re not welcomed here.” She threw the groceries on the countertop and yanked the the front door open. Her father watched a potato and an onion drop and roll lazily across the kitchen tile. “Please leave.”

The woman threw her this look of “I don’t take commands from underage girls,” and when her father did nothing to remedy the situation, she growled and stormed past them up to her room. Prying open her drawers with enough force to break them, she emptied a couple of personal belongings into a backpack, muttering curses and phrases under her breath that would surely sound foul if blurted aloud.

 

“Good for nothing-!” a pink sweatshirt landed ungracefully on the bed.

“Womanizing-!” a couple of paperback books. “Pitiful excuse for A-!”

“Sweetie, the lady is gone now!~” Her father barged in uninvited, reeking of beer and God knows what other manly odors. Needed a damn shower. He slurred terribly on his words. “I really tried this time.” He whined and hiccuped. “The liquor store had a sale on my favorite brandy and it was tempting me!”

“No you did NOT try, papa.” Maka seethes. “You NEVER try hard enough, that’s why mama left.” She tried to keep composed; pissing off a drunk person could turn into dangerous business. She’d lived with her idiot father long enough to know. But she was fuming, fists balled so tight at the sides her knuckles turned white. She turned her back on him and finished packing her bag.

“Where are you going?” he asked, suddenly serious.

“Away.”

“Why do you hate me?”

Was he really starting this now? She exhaled harshly, debating whether to scream at him until her throat was sore, or give him the silent treatment. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out her journal. It was time to leave.

“Maka, tell me!” he whined in a higher pitch. She winced when he knocked over her desk lamp, but continued packing.

“Maka, answer papa. It was the lady wasn’t it? She was only a friend.” He tried to lay a hand on her shoulder, but Maka briskly shoved it away.

“You.” She sneered. “You just don’t see it, do you?” She bit back a laugh; he’d take it literally in his state. None of it was funny. “You’re a disappointment, as a husband, as a father--hell--as a person.”

 

“Angel-!”

“I’m sixteen,” She quipped. “Enough with the nicknames, please.”

“But pumpkin,” more annoying whining. “Y- you shouldn’t use such b-bad language with your pa-”

 

“A curse, that’s exactly what you are to this family--what's left of it anyway!” she snapped, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Everyone who gets close to you ends up hurt.” She grasped the broken desk lamp in her hand and waved it in front of him. “You. Break. Everything.”

 

He deflated visibly at Maka’s harsh words. A part of her wanted to feel accomplished that she got her true thoughts through to his thick skull, but she also wanted to cry. Not in front of him though, she’d never show him any kind of sympathy.

 

“Papa is lonely,” he slips between wet sobs. “Please don’t leave papa. Maka Lilith Albarn, don't you dare-!"

“I’m going now.”  She steeled, shoving past him and out the front door.

A light breeze welcomed her as she began her silent trek away from the house, down the streets and across the highway. A trip to the woods on a misty, late spring day was just what she needed. Maka felt the quietness from daily life wrap around her body the further in she ventured. The sounds of cars and people faded into the distance within minutes. Slowly, she became aware of the woodland orchestra; the chirping of songbirds, the audible buzzing of may beetles and gnats, the scurrying of chipmunks across the grassy floor. A small smile graced her face as the soothing sounds and the scent of a lake bombarded her senses.

The clearing was her favorite place when she was younger. She can still remember the first time her father took her here to fish, and a giant tadpole bit her bait by accident. It was the first time she ever saw her mother put down her book to laugh. Froggy was her first pet, and boy was he trouble, but she loved him. One day, he climbed out his tank and leaped out the window. That was the last she saw of Froggy, and probably the end of her mother’s smiling days. When her mother left, her father didn’t feel like taking her out here anymore, so she made the trips herself. Many years had passed, and this area remained the same. It was the only constant in her life, the only thing that never changed or left for good.

On the other side of the shore, a small wooden boat swayed lightly with the cool breeze against the dock. It used to be her old neighbor’s, but when Joe packed his belongings and moved to another town, he deliberately left it behind for her father. Since he never went fishing anymore, Maka used it for her own endeavors-- more like lazy floating, while she imagined all of the adventures she could be having, like climbing the great wall or living in a house by the beach. But no. All she had was herself, a boat, and a half empty book. The book. Best of all the parting gifts she’s ever received. Maka dug out a blue pen from the depths of her backpack and began to write:

 ******  
****  
****  
**

Salty droplets stained the pages as Maka finally let the river of emotions inside her run loose. She wonders briefly, if she asked Tsugumi, would she let her live with her family in their house. Tsugumi had caring, very much together parents.

It was tiring, trying to hope for better days when things kept getting worse with each passing year. She missed childhood. She longed for stuffed animals and fairy tales to be read to her at bedtime. The nightlights and the blankies. The promise that mommy and daddy would always be there to protect her from the monsters under the bed. The responsibilities of being a teenager nearing adulthood, the realization that life did not work that way, came quicker than she could prepare herself for and she hated it, hated to know all she ever wanted was a dream.

Maka wiped the last of her tears with the back of her sweater sleeve and lay down flat in boat. She shut her eyes and tuned in to the sound of the cricket parade and the water sloshing against the boards, making them creak slightly. Any fish awake at this time were probably nibbling moss gathered on the hull. The sky began to darken above her as the sun set and she fell into a light snooze. After a good while, the crickets ceased their chirping and a single ker-plop broke through the comfortable silence. The wind began to pick up, causing Maka to shiver and stir. She rubbed the rest from her eyes and reached for her journal.

“I better start heading back,” she mumbled. “Papa should be asleep by now.” A dark cloud uncovering a bright light caught her attention.

“That’s the biggest moon I’ve ever seen,” Maka whispered, feeling like an insect in comparison. She laid there for what seemed like days, hypnotized by the moon's allure, until the wail of a seagull severed the invisible link.

“Seagulls?”

Maka shot up so quickly the boat nearly tipped over. The wind had strengthened considerably, whisking her pigtails to and fro. Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. There were no trees anywhere to be found. The sky colored dark by ominous cumulonimbus clouds. What she remembered to be a lake now spread outward for miles and miles. Above her, shadows of seagulls cried out excitedly, struggling to keep in sync with the stormy winds. It was profound confusion. Seagulls weren’t nocturnal, nor did they hang around the woods...if she was even in the woods anymore.

“Where am I?” her fingers trembled, gripping the sides of her boat---the boat! It now sported a great white sail. The fabric, worn and ragged at the edges, yielded to the current’s whim. “This isn’t my boat!”

Nothing made sense. She whipped her head around frantically when a violent streak of lightning pierced the clouds, followed by the tell tale crackling of thunder.

****

                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Why am I at sea-- in the middle of a storm!?”

A low rumbling sounded from below dark waters and she clung to the mast for dear life. The wind did not howl, it screamed. Rain didn’t just start falling from the sky, it was driven, hard, merciless and torrential. Smack dab in the middle of a disaster, Maka felt like a vulnerable conglomeration of wood, metal and flesh. The harsh sea waves and frothy spume nearly overtook the tiny, quivering sailboat. Maka stopped questioning things out of fear and huddled closer to the mast, drenched and clutching the backpack to her chest. There was nothing she could do except shut her eyes and pray for a cessation in the brutal weather, hope that by some sick joke this is all a dream and she would wake up warm and safe in her bed. Braving a peek through thick, icy rainfall, she noticed the moon once more, but the sight caused her to shake the crazy out of her head.

_The moon can’t smile._

__

_I have to be dreaming, right?_

__

_I’m not crazy!_

When she glanced back at the sky, the moon was no longer there. A menacing wave took its place. _Worst. Nightmare. Ever._ It proceeded to grow over the boat, threatening to swallow the boat whole and toss her into a tempestuous abyss. _So, this is what death looks like._ She clamped her eyes shut as the wave came down and willed her body to become rock. As water overpowered the vessel, she held in a deep breath and re-played her mother’s favorite mantra in her head over and over again.

_Heavy stones fear no weather._

                                                                                 

 


	2. Hold Me, Animal.

Chapter 2: “Hold Me, Animal.”

                                                                                 

_“What is this scrawny thing doing here?”_

_“Found her by the beach. She didn’t look too good.”_

_“Maybe she’s sick!”_

_“Get back here, idiot!”_

_“I can’t see her face, this pink thing’s covering it.”_

_“Don’t touch her!”_

_“Twiggy ain’t movin’.”_

_“Is she dead?”_

**She wonders dazedly if those voices are speaking about her. Surely not. She doesn’t feel dead…**

_“Nah, I think she’s just sleepin’. Let’s wake her up.”_

__

**Sleeping sounds much nicer than dead. Why don’t they just let her sleep?**

_“Are you stupid? She’ll start yelling and I hate yelling!”_

**Oh dear, lord forbid she wake up and shout at them for being obnoxious. She would be well within her rights to do so.**

_“Hey, she’s moving!”_

“Oh, my head…”

                                                                                 

A splitting headache was pounding at her head, making it hard for her to think. She decided first to try and pry her eyes open, blinking away the black spots that danced around her sight. She heard faint shuffling and the crunching of leaves closeby. Seconds passed and her vision began to clear, revealing large, blurry figures with glowing eyes glaring back at her. She gave a tiny yelp and roughly rubbed the black from her eyes, hoping the sight would vanish like a bad dream. Only when she opened them again, she could clearly make out the bodies of massive, grizzly, menacing…

                      

Monsters!!!

Maka shrieked in terror, clutching at her chest for dear life, stumbling backwards as her howl echoed through the pines of the dark, damp forest. Some bats awoke, scattering across the night sky. The loud sound startled the strange creatures as well; they all yelped in response, scampering away to climb up nearby trees or hide behind bushes and moss covered tree stumps with their hands over their ears.

“I told you she’d do the screaming thing! No one ever listens to me!”

Her heart beat was rapid and hard against her chest, wanting to break free from pure fright. This wasn’t a dream. She was actually surrounded by monsters--big, burly things with malicious glowing eyes sizing her up, probably for their next meal--the sorts of creatures that she only thought up in her stories. Her head jerked up violently when she heard the sound of tree branches snapping, and caught sight of a pair of glowing yellow eyes plummeting to the earth.

“Ow!”

The silhouette sat upright on the ground, shaking out all the twigs and branches that had made their way into its thick mane. Its head snapped in her direction with a loud grunt. She was in for it now.

Maka, knowing she was cornered by beasts, could only manage to scramble about on the dirt ground, slick mud and leaf bits caking her hands and jeans. She unceremoniously backed herself into a tree with large, tuberous roots that the earth had abandoned. Cold panic set into her bones. She lost sight of those ominous eyes, twisted and turned and flailed to try to find them once more, but to no avail. She heard them though, the owners of those glowering orbs. She heard their low, rumbling growls. She thought of how silly it was of her to leave home. Of how Papa was tolerable if she avoided him, not a monster in the typical sense, no fangs or claws or anything!

She wanted to assimilate with the earth caking her skin and making her itch.

When she felt warm breath tickle the back of her neck, she wished her mud covered boots were ruby slippers. If only she could click her heels three times and return home to a safe bed, one without any creatures that go bump in the night--one without any that tried to explore her backside! Maka went rigid as the creature snuffled and grunted against the damp fabric of her sweater.

Maka daren't even breathe; no matter how much every instinct within her had screamed to get up and run, to strike the creature studying her, she didn’t budge. Her eyes scrunched shut as she felt a claw tuck a strand of hair behind her left ear. Something panted in front of her; hot blasts of air that smelled of rotted animal and fermented berries. Her bones had turned to ice, sure to shatter if she dared to move an inch.

“You’re a funny lookin’ runt,” the thing in front of her spoke in a singsong voice.

 

Maka’s eyes flew open in shock. If that wasn’t enough to put her into a coma, the sight of rows of serrated teeth tightly knit together in a cheerful and yet sinister grin should have tipped the scale.

“You smell real nice. Better than the old moose we had last week. Bet you’d make a good stew.”

Maka’s heart stilled at the mention of being monster food.

“Waddaya think, Liz, make a mean stew, right??”

“With that crazy set of pipes, I think you should back away from her, Patty.” The branches in the trees rustled as another creature, similar to the first except slightly taller, made its way to the ground. “What if she’s some sorta land siren? She’ll blow up our heads!” The creature glared at Maka. “You’re not a siren, are ya?”

Maka nearly shook her head off her body, signaling a ‘no’.

“Or,” it directed its attention back to the smaller one. “What if she's sick and has worms, you know, those nasty long brown ones that killed Sid?”

“OOooooooh ICK. But sissy, that old lady Sid ate smelled funny. This one doesn’t!”

“Just get outta there!”

“Fineeeee. Gosh, always spoilin’ all the fun.”

“Well, how rude, sis. Talking about dinner plans and the meal’s still alive, ya know?”

“We did that to the moose, and he didn’t seem to mind!”

“Hello there, supper, please excuse my rude sister. Long story short, we’re all really hungry, and hope you do not have worms or those little bird bones, because bird bones get stuck between the teeth and are the actual worst to get out--”

“Cut it out you two.”

Another monster with blood-red irises and a demonic smile appeared from behind a large tree. It was he who halted the dinner plans.

“Oi. I think that’s enough guys, she looks about ready to piss herself.”

Something in her snapped, and she just about knocked the wind out of his lungs with a square punch to his stomach. His fur felt matted and unkempt beneath her knuckles, and for a moment she felt just a bit guilty, until she reminded herself that he was indeed a monster, who just so happened to insult her as well.

“On second thought,” he wheezed, “rotisserie, anyone?”

“You know what I always say,” the tallish-brown one replied. “Got a problem--?”

The shorter one finished the sentence. “Eat it!”

The monsters took a moment to share grins, and Maka took the opportunity to run. She ran far and fast, tripping over those damned tree roots and scraping up against barren berry bushes and gnarled tree bark. Behind her, she could hear the excited howls and frenzied scraping of claws against the dirt floor getting closer and closer to where she was.

“No use in running, little runt! I’m gunna catch youuuuu!~”  The tinkling, sweetness of that voice was at odds with the malice in the words. Maka ran faster, propelling herself forward with so much force it had given her whiplash. The leaves sliced her cheeks and her eyes watered. She had started to prepare herself for a fight, until she saw it.

 

The perfect tree.

She wasted no time clamboring up, perching high within its boughs and hugging the trunk tightly. She tried to drown out the infernal scratching of the bark below, believing that maybe if she stayed up there long enough they would tire and leave her alone. Her tiny sliver of hope was shattered when she spotted glowing red eyes inches away from where she stood.

“We can climb too you know.”

With a shrill shriek, she toppled backwards, hurtling toward the unforgiving earth. She tried to curl up in upon herself to brace for the impact, but it never came.

She felt a clawed, furry hand circle about her ankle. The grip was tight, but surprisingly cautious. The claws made no move to puncture her fragile skin.

She flailed about, spitting curses and grasping at flimsy branches, all of which betrayed her every time they slipped from her grip, whipping her face harshly. She heard amused laughter from the branches above, and the grip on her tightened.

“You’re lucky I got hands big enough to catch your fat ankle, wild one. Now tell me, why shouldn’t I let my friends cook you up for dinner? Do you actually got worms or something?”

“Help me up, dammit!!” **Real smart, Maka, like a monster trying to eat you would ever help you to safety.**

“Give me one good reason, ‘runt’. Maybe if it’s good enough, me and my friends will go find us another moose, or a not-so-innocent bystander. Go on!”

He shook her nonchalantly, yawning dramatically and chuckling with a low rumble. She spat more curses at him, stalling while she wracked her brain for something to tell this creature that might halt his dinner plans.

“Just don’t let them eat me, I can’t be eaten!”

“Reason being?”

**I’m too young to die!** echoed in her head, but what good would that do? In the midst of her frenzied searching for a convincing response, all the ridiculous nicknames her obnoxious father slathered her with as a child came rushing out of her memory bank, and one in particular proved to be useful in conjuring up a different answer.

"I'm not like other girls. I have special powers!"

"Oh really?" The monster quirked an eyebrow. He seemed intrigued.

"Y-Yeah," Maka started to feel a little intimidated by his unconvinced expression, but went on with her response, milking it for all it was worth. "I have the powers of an angel, yeah, and I can make lots of good things happen, but I'm no pushover. If you get me angry enough I can split the earth in two, and you don't want to get me angry, monster! It could mean big trouble for you!" She tried to strike the fear of God into the creature clasping her, eyes fierce and mouth set in a firm, thin line. Positive she was as good as dead, Maka morbidly wondered if they would prepare her like a roasted boar, apple shoved between her teeth and all.

The creature surprised her.

“Well… you do look rather appetizing. But it’s starting to sound like you’re not worth the hassle, Angel. ” He unceremoniously yanked her back up to his level and pulled her into his enormous, fluffy belly, balancing them both easily on his branch, chuckling lowly at her poor attempts to free herself from his embrace.

**What happened to all the strength I had before?**  

She wondered if he’d felt any of her well placed punches at all, but the amusement on his curious looking face made it clear he was unaffected. She scowled.

His lips pulled back into a vaguely menacing grin, strangely white shards glinting in the moonlight that filtered through the canopy of trees. Her efforts were losing momentum-- she was actually wearing herself out assaulting him.

                         

“Amuse me, wild one. Tell me more about your ‘special powers,’” he demanded, laughing heavily as she tried once more to wriggle free, his belly shaking so much it rattled her bones and made her teeth clack. “Alright alright, if I let go, do you promise not to fall out of the tree or try to run away like a damn idiot?” Before she could answer, a sweet voice interjected,

“Heya Soul, I’m hungry!! That’s my dinner up there!! I called it first, now GIMME!”

Damn it all, she just couldn’t win.

“Pffft, not a chance, Pat! She’s mine!”

She was tempted to think that belonging to this monster actually might be an improvement. Oh, what a mess her life had become...

“Soul, for the love of all that is good, STOP ADOPTING PETS.” Maka was slightly startled at how they addressed each other with names, but looking back she can see how foolish it was to assume they had no names at all. Calling each other “creature,” as she called them in her own mind, was no doubt rude.

“Yeah, she’s not supposed to know about us, so we gotta eat heeeeerrrr!”

**Though eating people isn’t very polite either…**

"Well pet, looks like everyone’s pretty hungry down there. Better start amusing me fast, or I just might decide to eat you myself. You look pretty delicious from this angle." If he weren’t a gigantic, scary demon creature, and she hadn’t been terrified, she might’ve colored at his words.

But he was, and she was, and angels blush for no one, especially not demons.

She summoned all her courage and told him firmly, "But you can't. I have so much power that I would just explode in your stomach, and chunks of you would be everywhere. Your friends wouldn’t even be able to recognize you, I’d make such a mess of you!" She punctuated her threat with a forceful poke to his chest, just above where she assumed his heart was-- that is, if he possessed one to begin with.

Her attempt at fierceness was to no avail. The smug, furry bastard simply cocked an eyebrow and grinned a garish grin once more.

“Really now? But then, so would chunks of you as well. And heaven knows my friends wouldn’t bother to clean either of us up, wild one. I don’t really mind, but it seems like you might be bothered by the prospect."

"I'm not afraid to die! Back home, everyone knows this,” she taps him with a finger again. In reality, no one but her friend Tsugumi had seen her attempt to be fearless, like the time she tried to kill a pregnant black widow terrorizing her home. She may have won the war, but lived for a month with nightmares of eight-legged armies attacking her in her sleep.

“They fear me, and with damn good reason. I may be small, but I pack a punch!"

"Tell me about it..." He rolled those terrible eyes.

"If you give me any kingdom, I could rule it with an iron fist. No questions asked!"

“That so?” he grinded those terrible teeth. "So let me get this straight, uhhh...?"

"Maka."

"Yeah. So Maka, if I heard you correctly,” he picked his left ear with a claw, “you're an angel, you can kick some ass, AND you're a queen?" He seemed skeptical, which only made her wish all the more to convince him.

"Damn straight I am. So it'd be in your best interest to check me off the menu." And this statement was emphasized with a solid punch to Soul’s (as apparently they referred to him) jaw.

"Ow! What is your damage, little runt?" Soul winced, letting go of her to soothe the pain in his jaw.

"AHA!" Maka exclaimed, free of the monster’s grip, but in her excitement she slipped off of his stomach and screamed. Yet again, she was surprised by a strong grip on  her arm before she went all the way overboard.

"Tsk. Feisty aren't we?" He wore a serious frown on his face, and to Maka it meant trouble. Maybe she’d finally pissed him off and he was really gonna eat her. She looked away from him, clamping her eyes shut, envisioning the gnashing of teeth tearing into her flesh. To her surprise, she felt a hot whisper against her ear.

“I’ve got a proposition for you, Maka.”

Hugging her tightly to his chest, he leaped off the high branch and landed on the forest floor with a loud, vibrating thud that startled the bushes and shrubs. Maka gripped tightly onto his fur by the fistfuls.

“I thought you were going to eat me,” she stammered lowly, still suffering from the aftermath of the dramatic drop.

“Light meat gives me indigestion,” he replied snarkily, accompanied by a lopsided grin. “I’ll pass.”

                                                                               


End file.
